


like a chorus with new words

by tieria



Series: stories of hope (we tell after the war) [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: But mostly fluff, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Moving On, New Years, POV Alternating, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-19 00:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13111977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tieria/pseuds/tieria
Summary: Heartland pulls itself back to its feet, and so do they.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a companion piece to ["answers we already know"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12478236)  
> the first two chapters were posted on tumblr sometime right after the end of arc v (?) and have been edited slightly since then, but the third chapter is new content (and by far the longest). Here's to two and a half years of writing these two (and another one ahead)!

“We found your card.”

Of course they did.

When he had thrown himself from the bow of the ship he had hoped to land amongst the waves, be carried away to some other shore. Wake in a place far from Academia’s orders, where he could one day wake and find that it had all passed him by-

His place to run when the doors had finally all slammed closed before him.

Instead he’d been caught by the wind and nestled in Sakaki Yusho’s coat pocket, oblivious to it all. His only consolation is that he’d come back once it had all ended, instead of in its midst.

 

Dennis sets down another folded shirt atop the pile on his desk. It teeters, precarious. His desk lamp sends its wavering shadow long across the floor, toward where Shun stares him down from the doorway of his old dorm room, waiting for his response.

“What do you want me to say, Kurosaki?” 

It’s the first words they’ve exchanged since everything fell apart and perfectly into place during the Friendship Cup. Shun says nothing; Dennis thinks harder. The first things that came to mind are insults, jabs more mean-spirited than clever. He could blame it on the place, the walls of Academia that stand impersonal and cold and encourage only the vicious to advance. He blames it instead on the person he wished he never had to be, a persona still all too easy to sink into.

He shrugs, throwing his palms and shoulders high. He wishes, not in the least wistful, that Shun had barged into his room and asked for a duel- he always has been more eloquent on stage than off.

Shun seems similarly unsure of what to say, if the way he keeps shifting his weight from foot to foot is any indication. The air between them is almost tangibly brittle, a string on the verge of snapping. Dennis scrambles for anything to say that wouldn’t break it entirely- but the voice that speaks next is not his.

 

“Where are you going?”

Shun must have finally noticed the duffel bag sitting stuffed full on his mattress.

“Heartland,” he replies, and waits for the reaction, wonders how much of it will be anger.

Shun doesn’t so much as flinch. He’s only reminded again how little is left there, for Shun. “Why?”

If there’s little left for Shun, then there’s nothing left for Dennis. The parks he’d spent his afternoons in had burned, the apartment he’d lived in crushed under an Ancient Gear’s advance. He’d seen to that himself.

“Akaba Reiji,” is his reply, an answer in and of itself. Shun doesn't press. Dennis almost wishes he would.

 

Silence, silence. The string is still about to snap.

 

“Who did it?”

“Kaito didn’t tell you?” Shun shakes his head, a small motion that stands out stark in their stillness. He’d thought his throat would choke up, the way it does in his stage confessions. Instead the word falls out almost before he can stop it. “Me.”

He lets the statement hang, heavy in the quiet, waiting still for a condemnation that never comes.  _ Strange _ , Dennis thinks- admitting it hadn’t been as painful as he had imagined. Watching him blankly, Shun still doesn’t quite seem to understand. Dennis rephrases. “Didn’t you see it in the Resistance? Duelists that turned their disks inwards right before their life hit zero, or all of the old guard too proud to admit their defeat…”

Shun’s expression turns complicated, all at once. Realization, flashing fast and unguarded, then walled off with that impassiveness again before he scowls, staring down at the floorboards. Instead of at him, Dennis thinks.

“I saw it,” he replies, still tense with that anger and something Dennis couldn’t quite catch.

 

Dennis watched for a moment, but found nothing else. He leaves Shun to his memories, picking up his stack of shirts and crossing the room to his bed. He shoves them one by one into the duffel’s side pocket. Their stilted conversation still rings in his head. It’s regret, maybe, that emotion lingering in Shun’s actions- or perhaps it’s just loss. It doesn’t matter. Neither are for him, and neither are places where he should pry.

When he turnes back to the door, Shun is still there, now leaning against the frame.

_ Don’t you have a door to yell at? _ Dennis wants to say, but bites back- he isn’t absolved of the blame for his role that. Not by himself, and certainly not by Shun.

“I’m going,” Dennis says, slung his bag over his shoulder. “Ed Phoenix and the others are waiting.”

Dennis brushes past Shun at the door, nodding as he passes. Shun reaches out to catch his wrist, stops halfway there- even he doesn’t seem to know why he had done it. The motion halts Dennis all the same. He turns to Shun, leaves his  _ why _ unspoken.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and drops his hand back to his side.

The realization hits him then, not in the harsh way of revelation but in the quiet surprise of something he had known the whole time-

 

_ You don’t want this to be the end, either. _

 

“Shun,” he says, and the use of his first name has Shun’s attention only on him- “I’m going to help the restoration effort. When you come back, make sure you have your sister with you.”

Shun nods, holds out a hand. Dennis takes it. “Deal.”

Shun lets go first, pulls his hand back into a fist; Dennis stared blankly back. “You bump it,” Shun says, dry.

“I know,” Dennis replies, wondering when  _ secret handshakes _ , of all things, had become one of Shun’s habits. He curls his hand into a fist, bumps it anyways.

The tension does not dissolve from the air- not entirely. It is, they get the sense, only the start of a very long conversation. But still. It’s the lightest they’ve been with each other… ever, Dennis thinks with a little bubble of surprise. Some days, it seems to him that they had known each other for much longer than they really had.

 

“See you,” Dennis says, half of a promise.

“Yeah. See you in Heartland.”

He lingers just one last second in that almost-easy atmosphere- then adjusts the strap on his shoulder and started down the hall. As he leaves the dorms, he thinks- only thinks- he hears a quiet  _ “Have a safe trip” _ from far down the hall. He lifts a hand, waves without looking.

He’d willingly destroyed what he’d once wanted to last forever. It had colored his every interaction afterwards- his every word, every decision, every duel- made him forget what it was to live without betrayal hanging on the horizon.

But if there is still a chance for him, Dennis thinks, buried there in the ruins, no matter how broken and battered, he’ll take it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first person he duels after everything is Yuuya.  
> The second person he duels after everything is Dennis, because, well… Of course it is.

The first person he duels after everything is Yuuya.

The second person he duels after everything is Dennis, because, well… Of course it is. The way Shun sees it, they’ve never had a proper duel. At least not one with a conclusion.

“You beat me, Kurosaki,” Dennis says. He doesn’t look up from the papers he’s shuffling through. Shun catches something about reconstruction, loses sight of it after that.

“I beat one of Academia’s spies. Not you.”

“We’re the same thing.” 

Dennis shoots him a look as if it should be obvious; Shun gets the feeling that he’s paraphrasing Shun’s own words. He tries again- “Use your own cards, this time.”

“Those were my own cards,” Dennis protests without any life to it. Shun knows he’s gotten his meaning, and yet… Shun grits his teeth. It’s unlike Dennis to resist a duel so strongly.

“Mr. Dennis!” calls a quiet voice, “are you and Mr. Shun going to duel?”

Shun glances over. A small child stands peering around the corner. He can’t say he recognizes her, with her uneven braids and timid manner, but she could have been a fan, someone’s sister from school. Recognition used to mean everything when it was a question of friend versus foe, but not so much anymore.

“Well,” says Dennis, “we’re not sure yet.”

The girl hums in the too-loud way of children, then says, “Is Mr. Shun an entertainment duelist, too?”

Shun, suddenly, understands. He says under his breath, low so that she will not hear, “It’s not the same as before. It’s…” he thinks a moment, for the best way to make Dennis understand- “just a duel.”

“Just a duel,” Dennis echoes. He turns to the girl, kneels down to be at eye level. He beckons her over. She scampers to them, still a little shy, but coaxed out by Dennis’ smile. He addresses her seriously. “Do you want to see us duel?”

The girl nods enthusiastically. Dennis turns to face him properly.

“Well, Kurosaki. These kids have some high expectations. I hope you can meet them.”

It’s a challenge. He’s been faced with too many of those, as of late- 

“You’re the one who’s going to have trouble,” he replies. “I’ve seen all your tricks.”

But this time, he thinks, he rather likes the stakes.

 

The duel, this time, runs at a different pace. Shun swarms fast into Force Strix, and Dennis counters easily with his magicians, and they spend a few turns trying and failing to do more than chip away at each other’s life points.

Dennis duels differently, now that he’s not playing according to someone else’s script, and Shun has to consider his every move twice to keep the offensive momentum on his side. It’s exhilarating in a way that dueling has not been- that he has to keep reminding himself that dueling should  _ be _ \- since the last time he’s had a serious rival. It’s always been too desperate, too pointed. 

This is entertainment for entertainment’s sake, and Shun’s heart pounds with the rhythm of it.

 

Dennis draws; it’s obviously something good from the way his entire posture shifts. He leans forwards a bit, grins, then rolls back on his heels. “It’s been a good show,” he says, “But I think it’s about time I finally livened this duel up a bit.”

He snaps his fingers and a card appears in a puff of smoke. If it was anyone else, Shun would have accused them of cheating. “Rank-Up Magic, Magical Force!”

He punches his right hand out, and for a moment Shun can’t comprehend where he could possibly going with it- and then it hits him. Dennis says a summon chant, that much Shun is absolutely sure of- he hears it, but the only thing he can process is what Dennis is  _ doing _ . The summon backlights him in gold as he throws his hand high, as his monster appears at his back, graceful in the air- and yet.

“Trapeze High Magician!” Dennis grins, a wicked thing without malice. “So? Who’s seen all my tricks now?”

Silence. Dennis’ expression goes concerned, for half a second, but he apparently judges whatever expression is on Shun’s face to be nothing of concern, because he tries again- “Stunned? And here I thought nothing could surprise you. Believe me,” he adds, more for the benefit of the children than them- “I’ve tried before.”

He turns that showman’s smile back on Shun as the children clamor; Shun finally gathers up his wits.

“Did you just copy me?”

It’s comical, how Dennis’ expression morphs from that confident smile to a blasé  _ really _ in three seconds flat. “What, I spend weeks teaching myself how to pull that off and you don’t even get a little excited about it?”

Shun can’t help it- he laughs. He tries to make it come out like a dismissive snort, only partially succeeds. “But you had to copy me?”

“I didn’t exactly have many references.”

Shun laughs again, doesn’t try to disguise it this time. He waves a vague hand around. “You’re in Heartland. There’s nothing but references.”

It isn’t as if rank up magic is exactly  _ common, _ but it’s far from rare- Shun would wager half his extra deck that at least one of the kids watching them has one in their deck  _ somewhere _ . The thought only makes him laugh harder. Dennis says nothing, caught in his lie, just crosses his arms and attempts to look as scandalized as possible by Shun’s behavior.

“Teacher!” one of the children calls from the sidelines, kicking their feet and leaning forwards in their seat, “It’s still your turn!”

“It’s rude,” Dennis calls back, “to declare an attack while your opponent is too distracted by  _ laughing _ to pay attention!”

Shun looks up at the sky, the skyline battered but growing, looking more and more like he remembers with every week that slips by. There’s a long way to go before anything is back to normal- _ no, _ Shun thinks, until they can establish what the new normal even  _ is _ \- but in a world where Dennis Macfield, of all people, is copying his summon poses, there’s enough hope for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my Dennis document the heading for this was just " i rewatched 144 to confirm a thing and actually almost cried" just in case there was any doubt about how much I love Dennis


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change. There is meaning in that.

Things change.

Heartland rebuilds, Academia restructures, and people hop between dimensions for day trips like it’s casual sightseeing two towns over. No longer are the streets he walks every morning so grey below the orange-pink of the sunrise, no longer does the light of the stars outshine the warm glow of the streetlights- though that last one is a little bit melancholy. Heartland always did have the most beautiful stars. But this is what is most important:

It starts, again, to feel like a home.

 

The first time one of Dennis’ students asks him for a Fusion spell, he doesn’t know how to respond. Whenever children ask him for help learning another summoning method, he always teaches them Pendulum. Because it works well with the Xyz summons they already know, and because it lacks the connotations of those long months of hiding, refuses to call back to the disorientation of waking to a world that is not the one they had left.

(Because surely even acceptance of him is enough.)

“No,” says the girl, a stubborn pout on her face that speaks of too many years of getting her way, “It has to be Fusion.”

“Why?” he asks, because he knows from these children, at least, he’ll get an honest answer. She answers simply, “Because it’s cool when you summon Force Witch like-” a brief pause to enthusiastically copy the clasped hands of the fusion summon pose- “and then the effect swirls like  _ whoosh _ and she appears like  _ fwee! _ ” A pause, a glance up with utter seriousness to make sure that Dennis is understanding her properly. “So it’s gotta be Fusion.”

It’s a reason so utterly uncomplicated that Dennis has to hold back a laugh- he doesn’t want her to think he’s mocking her. “Okay,” he says, and watches as her face lights up in unbridled joy, “I’ll teach you.”

(So he does. And if he gives in and laughs once she runs off, bragging to her siblings when they come to pick her up, then, well-

No one asks the reason, so it’s fine, isn’t it?)

 

Things change.

Pendulum starts hosting inter-dimensional events, spearheaded by Yuuya and organized by Reiji. The dueling world is thrown into ecstatic, free-spirited chaos at the discovery of cards and archetypes from other dimensions, as duelists find new aces in colors they’d never known existed. The rules are still the same, but the ways to play within them have grown to possibilities seemingly infinite in number. Ruri and Yuuto don’t come back. 

In most ways, Shun is still trying to figure out how to live with that.

 

He goes back to school, because his dream hasn’t changed- the vision of it has just gotten a little more lonesome, is all. The invitation to the first tournament is as much as expected as it is a little flattering, now that the pros have all returned. Still, he doesn’t respond right away- the deadline is quite a ways off, and something about the invitation never makes him want to linger too long.

The invitation is signed at the bottom by the organizers- Yuuya, Yuzu, and Reiji. It’s reading the first two that tugs at something sharp embedded in his heart, a companion to that low ache that hasn’t quite vanished. Because the world is still filled with the holes of all the places that he associates with Yuuto and Ruri, and he’s still no closer to finding a way to bring them back than he was standing in the ruin of it all, pounding on Akaba Leo’s door. The crepe stand next to the jewelry store that Ruri brought them to again and again, finally rebuilt and glowing in neon pink lights again. The card shop on the corner that they’d spent countless hours in after school, especially after they’d learned they could bribe the elderly owner to let them stay after closing with cookies and pastries from the bakery by the bridge- it was a flower shop now, run by that old woman’s granddaughter. 

Shun walks past it all, towards a place that’s rapidly becoming as familiar as all the old hollows and haunts.

(The ache doesn’t fade- maybe it never will. But for now, it’s a precious reminder that he hasn’t given up. Even if he’s accepted it, he hasn’t given up hope.)

 

The more things change, the more other things stay the same- is what they’d like to say, but in reality, that’s not how it works. No one is the same way they were before everything, and they’re still feeling the effects of the people they were during it all.

They’re not allowed to stay the same, to revert to the people they were before. Blinding themselves to the world will only result in them being left behind, wallowing in the regrets they’ll never be able to shake. 

If only he hadn’t left Ruri alone that night, if he had only left Ruri be that day- it’s the beginning of a line of questions that plague them without end.

Regrets aren’t such easy things to make disappear. 

Still, that doesn’t mean that they’re not allowed to be happy.

 

There's going to be a New Years countdown in the plaza in the shadow of Heartland Tower. The reconstruction on it isn't yet done- much of its upper half is still covered in ugly scaffolding, obtrusive in the mostly-gleaming and sleek skyline. Even the miracles of Heartland’s technology couldn't quite heal one of the final wounds in time, but there's nothing that can quell the rising excitement. There's no one in Heartland that isn't talking about the planned celebration. It's said in place of “hello” and “good morning”- “When are you going? Who are you going with?” With every new string of light and every piece of the stage decorations set up, it seems that the city is a bubble ready to burst into perfect cheer, and Dennis has found himself no exception.

As it turns out, now that Heartland has more or less rebuilt the bases of the society it used to be, parents are quite willing to pay Dennis for teaching their children- and pay quite well, at that. So he rents out a small storefront with just enough space to spill with his students into the park outside and practice their duels. Shun stops by, sometimes, as do his other friends and acquaintances around Heartland- but it’s Shun that comes around most frequently, much to the children’s delight.

The sun is slipping low behind the skyline, a fantastic sunset fading away as Shun takes the last remaining student- a girl chattering blissfully unaware about her new Fusion cards to him- outside where her sister is waiting. Dennis re-arranges the chairs that had been scattered around the room and watches out of the corner of his eye as Shun indulges her ramblings without pause. In the end, he’d fought with comrades who’d used Fusion freely, hadn’t he? So perhaps it shouldn’t be that surprising.

Dennis pushes a few more chairs back to the wall and picks up the final one, a rickety old construction that he’d rescued from a trash pile a few streets down and maybe regrets having done so- it’s practically about to fall to scrap and bolts.

“The countdown is tonight, huh?” says Shun, lingering around the door, waiting for Dennis to finish putting the chairs back in order.

Dennis hums the affirmative, then-

“Come with me?”

He's not really sure why he asks ( _ liar _ , trills a petty thought in the back of his mind) but it's there, out in the open, leaving Dennis no choice but to wait for his response. He tenses, because while he’s no stranger to rejection, it isn’t something he’s braced himself for, this time-

“Sure.”

“What?” For a moment, it's the only word he can muster. He forces himself to set the last chair down next to the wall, a bit mechanical, and spins to face Shun.

Shun half rolls his eyes and leans forwards, pushing off the doorframe. “I said sure.”

“No, I heard, but you… What?”

Shun’s only reply is a pointed look, probably wondering if Dennis has lost his mind. Dennis flounders, still wondering if he hasn't. “I know, for whatever reason, you don't hate me as much anymore. I don't know why you changed your mind. But we did hate each other.”

(The trill grows louder-  _ liar liar _ . He's never hated Shun, not even when he was trying to make himself detestable. He's never been able to do that about the people he respects.)

Shun sighs, short and sharp. “We probably should've had this conversation a while ago.”

_ Yes, _ thinks Dennis. He's not going to protest this, the tentative threads of something like friendship between them. But second chances are still hard to swallow, when he doesn't really understand why they're being given. Maybe, if he hadn't… If he hadn't done what he had done, then he would understand. ( _ Any of it _ , spits the darkness still lingering, a mask that had driven itself into his skin to settle persistent between his bones. He shoves it down, away, even though he knows it’s true.)

Shun’s words are carefully chosen but spoken deceptively casual. Dennis wonders if he hadn't rehearsed this.“I still hate what you did. If you hadn't helped take Ruri away, she might still be here. Yuuto might still be here. Every last thing that happened to my home? You played a part in making it happen-” Dennis flinched, though it was nothing he hadn’t already acknowledged to himself- “But I don't hate you anymore. Not exactly.”

“But I still  _ did it _ ,” Dennis bites out, and readies himself for an argument more along the lines of their second duel than their first, and certainly anything unlike than their third.

“You can't change it, can you?” snaps Shun, and it startles Dennis to a momentary silence. He shakes his head while he gathers his words- he's learned how to be so careful about them, so precise. Speaking freely is a skill hard to remember sometimes, he's found. He picks his words, but doesn’t get the chance to let them do more than roll around his thoughts before Shun is speaking again.

“You wanted me to hate you.” It's not a question. It doesn't need to be; Dennis can tell from the intense look in Shun’s eyes that he knows he's cut straight to the truth. “You figured out the kind of person I hated the most during our first duel and decided to play that role as perfectly as you could.”

Ah. So he'd been that transparent, had he? But in the moment it had worked, and that was all that had mattered. Dennis shakes those errant thoughts from his head. They're outdated, a way he doesn't have to force himself to be anymore. Yuuya has shown him that, and so has Heartland. Instead Dennis offers a half-shrug, a smile without levity or humor.

“I don't hate you because I barely knew you,” continues Shun, “just the person you kept pretending to be. I think I know more lies you've told than actual things about you.”

That's an exaggeration, surely. They probably couldn’t guess each other’s favorite color, but they knew more than enough about each other to be more than names and faces, than passing acquaintances or feeble constructs. 

But he understands Shun’s point. If he has a chance, he'll take it. Those are his own words- his own decision. It’s not a perfect forgiveness, but that would be too neat, too convenient. He says, “When I said I wanted to stay in Heartland. That wasn't a lie.”

“And now you're here again.” It's said with an air of finality, almost playfully smug. “So let’s go.”

Shun opens the door and leaves Dennis no choice but to step out before him. The door swings shut behind them; Dennis locks it with a sweep of keys, and Shun sets off towards the plaza, where a few early goers are already headed on the sidewalk beside them. Dennis shoves his keys in his pocket and follows just a half step behind.

(It’s not a perfect forgiveness. In most ways, Dennis thinks, this- whatever it might be- is much better.

 

They're pressed together tight in the crowd, and as the wind sweeps over the gathered Heartlanders it bites at their exposed fingertips. Neither of them have the mind to complain, swept up in the festive atmosphere. The sun has long since set, and it’s a set of artificial lights that illuminate the city plaza now, brighter than the sun and certainly burning with as much energy as one with the way the crowd buzzes and cheers.

“I’m surprised you’re not up on that stage,” Shun comments, briefly, as a few pro duelists take their final bows and are swept off behind the curtain by the announcers.

“Next year,” is Dennis’ instant reply, and Shun holds back a snort. Flashiness aside, Dennis does have skill- he’s known that since the very beginning. He might not mind watching that duel, now. Especially with the added amusement of Dennis mimicking him during his rank-ups.

On stage the announcers speak hopeful words; most of them fly over Shun’s head as he’s left imagining next year’s possibilities, echoing through his ears without comprehension. Not that he doesn't  _ want _ to pay attention- but rather that the words themselves are less important than with the intent with which they’re spoken.

It’s almost time.

“Are you going to Yuuya’s tournament?” asks Shun as the clock projected on the monitor above the stage counts down to seven minutes remaining- around them the shifting between the crowd grows almost  _ bright _ , somehow, but it’s not yet at fever pitch. People are still finding each other, calling with hands waving high over their heads as they push their way between and around already gathered groups.

By his side in the middle of it all, Dennis nods. “I sent back my RSVP. I’m assuming you’re going too?”

“Yeah,” replies Shun, because there was never any doubt that he would. He just hates the idea of looking at Yuuya, at Yuzu, and seeing in their faces only a reminder of his own failure. They’re their own people; time and time again had they proved that. He can recognize that they deserve better than his blame for something out of their control. “If we duel, I’m not going easy on you.”

“Wouldn’t want you to,” replies Dennis, “I’d just crush you if you did.”

Shun scoffs, more thrilled by the prospect of the challenge than anything. “And which one of us has the winning record?”

“Two wins aren’t hard to make up,” comes Dennis’ instant reply, and he glances up at Shun with a matching light of challenge, amplified by the energy of the crowd running electric through them. Five minutes.

Shun pauses, watches the seconds tick down on the monitor. A low roar starts to rise from the slowly shifting crowd. He says- “One. Just one.”

For a moment Dennis blinks, probably running through their past conversations, then nods. “Even easier.”

“That’s what you think.” Dennis doesn’t seem to have a reply to that save a low chuckle, not unkind. Three minutes and the crowd cheers, and from there the low roar never dies, building in swells as the time ticks down to the milestones- two minutes, one. Thirty seconds, fifteen, ten. The crowd cries out the numbers in almost-unison until that final  _ one _ , then-

Midnight.

The feelings of the crowd are all united in their final yell, and for just a moment it feels like floating in a moment unreal and utterly timeless, even through the march of the overhead clock begs to differ. Confetti falls in squares of bright red and gold around them, dropped from the scaffolding around the tower, fluttering festive in the glow of the lights. Beside him Dennis reaches up, snatches a piece from the air so quickly that Shun almost misses the movement entirely. He explains, uncurling his fist to reveal a crumpled red square, “A souvenir.”

One floats down close to Shun’s head too, and he reaches out for it, grabbing it between thumb and pointer rather than crushing it in his fist.

Things have changed. There’s no more Resistance, no more war, and no more enemies drawn down the strictest of borderlines. When the end came, it did not come so cleanly. There was no one event that marked the end of their story, no back cover to shut. Shun stares down at the gold confetti paper between his fingers and thinks the reason why is because they haven’t written it yet. They’re still at the very beginning of their lives, and in a world like this- in a world so foolishly hopeful, even after brushing with its own demise- there are a thousand possible futures he has yet to find.

(And if there’s a best possible world somewhere out there- one with Ruri, with Yuuto, maybe even with Dennis- then that  _ will _ be the one he carves out with his own hands.)


End file.
